Mitch
Hasslet aimed his lens at the aft of the ship parked a hundred yards
away. He narrowed the viewfinder on the cracked white letters.

Dorian
Gray.

Christ,
he hoped there was a portrait stored somewhere that flattered this
old bucket of bolts. Perhaps in its heyday, the freighter shined with
fresh black paint and gleaming brass fixtures−but now it looked
like a ghost ship ready to embark on a voyage to a prehistoric
island.

On
deck, crewmen were busy preparing for their valuable cargo as Mitch
swung his camera in the direction of two police cars entering the
barricade. In their wake, a trio of armored trucks stamped with the
Museum of Historical Art and Antiquities insignia were flanked by two
additional patrol units. The entire convoy pulled up idle at the foot
of a ramp that led into the bowels of the Dorian Gray.

Mitch’s
curiosity flared at the sight of wooden crates towed on mobile skids
by the armed security representatives of the HAA Museum. Some of the
fanfare in the papers came to mind.

Rare
Mayan artifacts. Brutal pieces of art that stirred up controversy,
and even warranted a disclaimer at the entrance of the museum.